


The Ghost of You

by caughtitonland



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M, [genre] angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-19
Updated: 2011-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:49:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caughtitonland/pseuds/caughtitonland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the following <a href="http://h50promptmeme.livejournal.com">h50promptmeme</a> prompt:<br/><i>Steve breaks out of prison using the tried and true method of faking his own death. If only prison mail was more reliable because the team never got the message, so Danny is more then a little surprised by an unexpected visitor.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghost of You

**Author's Note:**

> Ninja!Danny. That is all.

  


Inciting the riot is easy. Getting lost in the fray even more so. Getting stabbed while swallowing the pill takes a little more work. But, like anything else in his life, it's the details and preparation that allow Steve's plan to succeed. Metal fills his taste buds and things begin to slow as he drops to the ground. The last thing he sees is the EMT checking his pupils for dilation.

____________________

Danny's pretty sure that if Kamekona calls him one more time before six am, he's going to press charges. He knows there's laws against telemarketers calling before nine, and he's almost certain he can find a lawyer willing to find a precedent to back him up for trail. It'd all be really easy, but then again it might all go down the drain the minute the big guy shoots him that kicked-puppy look of his.

“Michelin Man, look at the clock. It says five-thirty in the morning, buddy. How many times I gotta tell ya not to call before nine?” The silence on the other end isn't what he expected and Danny sits up.

“Detective Williams, this is Dr. Ikaika from Halawa Correctional--”

“What happened? Is Steve okay?” Danny cuts in, already out of bed and sprinting to his closet to put some clothes on, panic filling every last nerve ending as he throws on pants and shoes, his shirt buttoned one-handedly and crooked as he waits for the doctor to respond.

“I'm sorry to have to tell you that Commander McGarrett was killed during a cell block riot earlier this morning.”

Danny's vision blurs, then spins, then finally goes black.

He wakes to find himself sprawled on his own bed, Kono and Chin each taking a side, their faces ashen and stressed. They'd managed to spring Kono on a technicality earlier in the week, and it took a moment for Danny to realize that she was there with full freedom and not because she'd escaped from the women's prison.

“Looks who's up,” Chin tries half-heartedly, the smile never reaching his eyes even as he pats a reassuring hand on Danny's own. The gesture catches Danny off guard before he remembers the phone call and the feeling of implosion that came with it. Throat tightening, he manages a small smile for his teammates.

“Do you guys mind---” and there's not much else he has to say, because they both know what he needs and neither is willing to keep him from having it.

With the soft click of the door, Danny lets out a wail before pressing a hand over his face and disappearing under the covers that still smell like Steve's aftershave. No one comes in to comfort him, all of them knowing he's well beyond that by the sounds coming through the door of the old house that Danny had only moved into a few months prior. A house that was passed down tragically from father to son; a house which would probably have to be sold, cleaned out and whitewashed of all the memories both good and bad that it held. Steve's house.  
They force Danny to sit at the funeral, no one trusting the man's legs to keep him upright for long. It's just as well since he can't keep his breathing under control for any good amount of time and passing out again, especially in the presence of other HPD and Navy officers is not high on his list of fun things to do.

Mary's nowhere to be found and so as the second-in-command at 5-0, the flag is presented to Danny. He bites through the corner of his tongue as he takes it, jaw clenched viciously against the tears that threaten to spill over his cheeks. No one but Chin and Kono know about what he and Steve were just beginning to explore and now is not the time to play the grieving widow.

He finds it hard to breathe as his teammates help him walk back to the rented car, the inhales staggered and wheezing, the exhales mere grunts of pain. Inside the car, they crack all the windows to give him fresh air, but it doesn't help. His chest feels the same as it did when he was poisoned with Sarin and before he can protest, someone is fitting an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, whispering soothingly for him to breathe. He looks up and is surprised to find Malia controlling the air flow, her smile sad and empathetic.

Danny's not sure how he manages to get out of his dress blues and into a pair of sweatpants and Steve's t-shirt, but he does and soon enough is curled up under the sheets again, his partner's pillow pressed to his face as he cries brokenly into the fabric. Kono stays for a while, rubbing his back as though it will help, but after an hour, she disappears, leaving him alone in the empty house.

____________________

“Welcome back, sir.” Petty Officer Brooks' face takes a few moments to come into focus, but when it does, Steve smiles in relief, knowing his plan has worked. Brooks and Lieutenant DiNazzo were the only two people he let in on the plan and only because they had the tactical and medical skills to infiltrate Halawa's medical office, steal his body out of the morgue, and bring him back to life.

He takes his time sitting up, Steve slowed by both the superficial stab wound he endured, and the drug's lingering grasp on his being. As he does, DiNazzo turns on the TV to show him the latest news report.

 _One of the three men killed in the riot was Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett, a former Navy Seal-turned-5-0 Task Force leader--_

Steve stands, testing out his legs, smiling ear to ear that everything worked out so well. He looks at his new team, the two men that he's fought shoulder-to-shoulder with countless times before and with a simple nod, commends them on their work.

“All right guys, let's do this. We don't stop until Wo Fat is dead, is that clear?” Brook and DiNazzo give their silent understanding before each man goes to work, preparing their equipment for the next stage of the plan.

____________________

Days turn to weeks, weeks to months, and as suddenly as the news of Steve's death travelled around the island, so to does a change come over his former second-in-command. The ties disappear, the hair is buzzed, and the loudmouth Jersey cop is replaced by a silent, terrifyingly-calm man hellbent on revenge.

Danny takes courses at the local Navy base; brushes up on his weapon skills, learns advanced hand-to-hand combat, and re-shapes his already-fit body into a fine-tuned machine with one purpose; to kill Wo Fat. He takes over the computer table at HQ and presents leads in the same no-nonsense fashion as his predecessor; it's a change that scares the shit out of anyone who knows him, but no one says a word, afraid that the tenuous hold he has on reality and his own emotions will sever if they speak out.

They get close a few times, but each time they're about to move in for the kill, something goes wrong and they're forced to take two steps back. It's almost as if another team is working a different angle, after the same goal but going about it different ways. The styles are similar enough, but the angles are too steep and careen into one another on more than one occasion. It doesn't matter though, because with each new op, with each step forward, Danny gets closer to hunting down and killing the man who ruined so many lives, his included.

“Look, boss, we've been going at this for thirteen hours now, with minimal breaks. Why don't we take the evening to just chill, talk it out, and tomorrow we'll come back with fresh eyes?”

It's the first time Kono has voiced the idea, but not the first time her or Chin have thought of it. She fidgets, waiting for the explosion of anger, the barrage of words that will cut deeper than any knife they use. Chin stands at the ready, more than willing to be the buffer or the voice of reason. Danny surprises both of them when he nods in agreement.

“We'll meet at the house in an hour. Bring your own beer, 'cause I'm not stocked.” They wait until Danny's gone into his office to exchange excited smiles and a discreet high five.

It's raining too hard for them to sit outside, so the living room becomes the backyard and before long, they're all reminiscing about their first year as a team. Kono's trying to make it through a story about how her and Steve were forced to take down what they thought to be an old lady, but was actually a man dressed like a grandmother, but Chin's laughter is infectious and she only makes it three words before snorting and falling into a fit of giggles.

The moment the topic of conversation turned to Steve, Danny makes himself scarce, excusing himself by saying that he has to wash up before cooking them all dinner, when in truth, he sprints up the steps, ignoring the name and the memories that come with it. He finds solace in the bedroom they once shared, and after a moment, finds his composure again, the anger that had risen in him when 'Steve' first tumbled out of Chin's mouth so nonchalantly ebbing into an understanding that his friends had processed the loss months ago, and were done grieving for their leader. Danny can't say he'll ever reach the same point.

He goes to the grave daily—usually on their lunch break—and makes sure it's clean. Danny doesn't cry when he goes, though the force needed to hold back his tears usually ends in a dull, next-day ache in his chest. No, he sits calmly and updates his old partner on the case; on their victories and set-backs, on the evidence he can't piece together. Most importantly, he updates him on Gracie and her achievements at school. He has full custody now, a miracle in and of itself. She still goes to her fancy private school, tuition paid for by Stan. He calls it being a good step-father; Danny calls it guilt money for getting Rachel killed.

Chin's voice pulls him from his thoughts and Danny jogs down the stairs, stopping at the landing between the two floors. His friends look up at him, tears streaming down their faces and for a moment, Danny panics, thinking something happened to Grace. It's not until he takes a step forward that he realizes the reason for their tears. Steve stands at the door, wearing his usual get-up of black cargo, his hair and clothes wet from the rain, his face as shocked at everyone else's. Danny takes a step back, turns on his heels and runs, unable to process what he's just seen and unwilling to believe for one second that the man in the entry way is his former partner, his other half, the man he gave his heart to so many months ago.

Heavy steps follow him and for a moment after closing the bedroom door, Danny considers jumping from the second floor balcony just to get out of the house. He can do it now without injuring himself, bad knee and all. He's far too well conditioned to get hurt doing a tuck-and-roll from ten feet up. There's not enough time however, and before he knows it, Steve is standing against the door, the lock turned, giving them the privacy they both so desperately need for the exchange that's about to happen.

“What happened to you, Danny?” Steve asks, his voice tentative and soft. Danny can merely shake his head in amazement.

“What happened to me? You DIED, that's what happened to me. I BURIED YOU, McGarrett. I watched them put you in the ground, and I've got the flag to prove it!” Danny's anger is overshadowed by the tears streaming relentlessly down his face, every last inch of hurt coming out and hitting Steve full force in the gut.

“After I got done burying you, I had some spare time on my hands, so picked up the case that put you in that goddamn prison and began working again. And I'm close too, Steve. Real close to putting that bastard six feet under where he belongs. I'm gonna make him suffer, going to take it slow, take my time, and make him realize just how much pain he's put everyone through.”

Danny's still talking even as he's pummeled by his former partner, strong arms a vice around his midsection. It takes a moment, but he hugs back, the wall crumbling on both sides. He sobs as Steve cups his face in both hands, Danny feeling like a lost child who's finally been found by his parents. Steve's own face is wet with tears, his face crumpled, torn with guilt and misery and it dawns on Danny that this might be the first time Steve has taken into account the ramifications of his Houdini act. The thought hurts less than it should, less than it would have months ago, before his own training, his own mental re-alignment. Now, he understands that Steve couldn't have told him, couldn't have let him in on the attempt because the Jersey cop would have tried to stop him, would have talked his ear off about how stupid an idea it was, and how it would get him killed for real. No, Steve did the right thing in not telling Danny and Danny knows now that were their positions reversed, he wouldn't have told himself either.

“I missed you,” Steve admits on a choked inhale, his eyes shut tightly, a vain attempt to stop the tears. Danny's own chest heaves as he mirrors his partner, both hands framing Steve's face, blue eyes finding slate. There's only a moment's hesitation before all the anger, all the sorrow fade away in favor of hope and relief, of the joy of having Steve in his arms again.  
Their lips meet slowly, and Danny's certain there will never be a better kiss in his lifetime, that he will never feel more love for another person so long as he lives.


End file.
